Right?

Spending time with family members this summer, I’ve been struck at how often our conversation turns to questions about what’s “right.” Is it “right” to have insurance, or should we trust God to provide in times of need? Is it “right” to put our family’s safety/comfort/happiness first, or should that be held in balance with calling, mission, ministry? Is it “right” to attend a church where we don’t agree on key theological points? Which points? Who is "right"? 

God gave me a strange gift when I was seventeen. At the time, I didn’t realize its value, and sometimes since then I’ve forgotten what I saw, but I’m brought back, sometimes painfully, sometimes with great amusement, to see again what I saw so clearly as a skinny high school senior.

I had planned, for years, where I was going to go to college. My grandmother didn’t like my plan, but from every other direction the endorsement was strong. Then, through what seemed like a clear word from God and some compelling circumstances, I found myself considering something very different.

The problem was, my first choice seemed like the "right" one. And when I started making lists of reason, weighing out the pros and cons, I found I could make the thing stack up either way. In fact, in talking to people around me, I found I could present either case so compellingly my listener would have to agree. You’re right!

But then, from the other side, You’re right!

Which is when God stepped in and gave me an interesting glimpse of my own tenacious mind, my own need to be right, and a simple, stunning truth: I could have all the reasons on my side, have it all lined up, be right on paper, right in logic, right in every way, and still be completely wrong.

One of my favorite poems at that point was Invictus, the well-known poem by little-known poet William Ernest Henley (1849–1903). I was aware of its questionable theology ("I thank whatever gods there be"), but I liked the idea of standing up to the “bludgeonings of chance,” and I looked forward to somehow becoming “captain of my fate,” and “master of my soul.”

Choosing a college was my first chance to begin navigating my own course, but I remember sitting quietly and considering what I knew of people who had marched forward as captains of their fate. My family was full of smart people, smart in all the measurable ways, logical, persuasive, able to explain the rightness of their choices. But many of their choices, while logically right, had been painfully wrong, for them and those around them. In fact, as I sat looking down the path of the future, it occurred to me that “being right” could be a destructive thing, a license to ignore other people and their needs, a justification for doing great harm, a path into great danger.

College applications on the table before me, I made a decision, a decision that has stayed steady for over four decades now, despite occasional wavering and brief moments of amnesia. I decided I wanted to do what God called me to do, what He invited me to do, and to trust my decisions to Him, even if my own plans, ideas, opinions seemed better, more logical, more “right.”

I applied to just one college, the one I believe God called me to. And continue to thank God for the way He used that time in my life.

Does that mean God always tells us what choice to make? Not at all.

Should we wait until He does? Not necesssarily.

Are we wrong for having our own ideas, our own plans, our own agendas? No. 

It’s how we hold our plans – lightly, or tenaciously. With stubborn, prideful confidence our plans are right, or with a sense of humble, listening prayer: this is the way I’m going, Lord, unless you show me a better way.

Praying this week with family members considering some important decisions, I was reminded of our family’s move to Virginia, more than thirty years ago. We had been living in West Philly, in a neighborhood I’d grown to love. We had a two year old and a baby on the way. I wasn’t thrilled to be moving further south (I'm a native New Yorker), but I’d decided that it would be okay on one condition: we needed to buy a single family house, with a decent yard, preferably fenced, and room for a vegetable garden.

My plan made sense. Except we were losing money on our hundred-year-old twin in West Philly, couldn’t afford a single-family house anywhere near my husband’s new job, and he thought a townhouse in Reston, the planned community where he’d be working, would be a better choice.

I was sure I was right. So sure, I couldn’t even begin to see his point of view. Reston, on our first visit, was a hot, burned-over, weird, new place. The one townhouse I agreed to look at had tiny bedrooms, avocado and harvest gold bathroom fixtures, and bright orange, pink and green wallpaper throughout most of the first floor. No way.

He thought it was a great buy. I assembled compelling arguments against it. And then, in Truro Church the next day, John Howe, Truro’s rector at the time, preached a sermon about sin. 

I remember very clearly what he said: “Sin is wanting your own way more than God’s.”

Of course. I knew that. 

I’d seen it.

And I’d decided, years before: I wanted God’s way, not mine. 

Once I stopped arguing, it was totally clear: that small brick townhouse was God’s answer to our prayer.

I can’t think of a better place for a family of young children than that townhouse community where we spent fifteen years. In fact, when we outgrew our first townhouse, we scoured northern Virginia for something better and finally bought a larger townhouse just down the street. After that move, our kids were sure they lived in the best house in the best neighborhood in the best town in the best state in the best country in the world. God used those two homes for great good in our lives, and in the lives of others we came to know.

When I was a camp counselor one summer, years before that, a friend made me a small gift, a rock with Proverbs 16:9 painted on it: "The mind of man plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps." 

I’ve saved that rock as a reminder that God's not counting on my wisdom. Instead, if I listen, He'll give me his own. It’s a reminder that it’s okay to plan, to make lists of pros and cons, to envision the future, to think about which way is best.

But to hold that lightly. 

Because God is the one who knows the future, knows me, knows the people I love, knows what’s best for us all. I want Him to be the one to direct my steps, and theirs, through the unseen dangers, the unexpected tests along the way.

The news, as usual, is full of people arguing about debt, taxes, guns, treaties. There are lots of reasons, lots of people sure they’re right. I confess I’ve done some arguing myself, and there are days when I’m not quite sure who’s right, but very sure about who’s wrong.

But being right isn’t the answer. Not in politics, not in personal decisions. Our only hope is in listening, carefully, to the One who is beyond our reasons, our logic, our pride in our own wisdom. If He directs our steps, we can't go wrong.

       The shepherds are senseless
           and do not inquire of the Lord;
       so they do not prosper
           and all their flock is scattered. 

       Listen! The report is coming—
           a great commotion from the land of the north!
       It will make the towns of Judah desolate,
           a haunt of jackals.

        Lord, I know that people’s lives are not their own;
           it is not for them to direct their steps. (Jeremiah 10)

[This summer I'm reworking some earlier posts, as travel and time outside limit my time for blogging. This blog appeared, in slightly different form, on July 31, 2011]

Please join the conversation. Your thoughts and experiences in this are welcome. Look for the "__ comments" link below to leave your comments. 

We Don't Know What to Do

When I'm not sure what to do, I sometimes look back on one of my favorite Old Testament accounts, the story of King Jehosophat, in 2 Chronicles 20.

Warned of a vast army gathering on the other side of the sea, Jeshosophat gathered his people to join him in asking God what to do. He described the ways God had led in the past, described the current overwhelming need, then confessed his own inadequacy, and willingness to do what God instructed: 

“We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.” (2 Chronicles 20:12) 

In my years of full-time youth ministry, I led a mission trip every summer to an inner city neighborhood where our task was to share the hope of God’s love in a community with the lowest per capita income and highest density of children in the state of Pennsylvania. Early in our week together we would read King Jehosophat’s prayer and talk together about our own inadequacy in the face of poverty, addiction, racial unrest.

I’d point out the way the people of Judah “stood there before the Lord,” and read this: 

“Then the Spirit of the Lord came on Jahaziel son of Zechariah, the son of Benaiah, the son of Jeiel, the son of Mattaniah, a Levite and descendant of Asaph, as he stood in the assembly.
 He said: “Listen, King Jehoshaphat and all who live in Judah and Jerusalem! This is what the Lord says to you: ‘Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God’s.”  (2 Chronicle 20:14-15)

My goal was to have us look, not at what we were going to do, but at what God was going to do, while we were invited to watch. We were not bringing God to Kensington: he was there, already, inviting us to join him.

And we were not going to solve the problems we encountered: we were going to spread them out, together, in prayer, and watch for God to move.

And solutions, direction, answers, vision, were not my responsbilitiy alone, as the leader of our little group. Just as God spoke through Jahaziel, never mentioned before or after, he could, and did, speak through any member of our team.

Every evening, after our two hour program with the kids of the neighborhood, we’d gather to debrief. We’d write accomplishments and challenges on the big whiteboard in the room that served as meeting space, practice hall, women and girls’ sleep space, then we’d spend time in prayer, inviting God to show us his love for the kids who showed up at our gate: eager, disruptive, hostile, hungry.

The next morning, after the leaders had gathered again in prayer, after we’d read through a chapter of the gospels together, we’d listen for ideas for the day ahead.

 “Do the music and drama in the courtyard, with the building as a backdrop."

“Let’s go over early and worship and pray in every space.”
 “Let’s use tickets for face painting, so we know who’s next, and it feels like something special.”
 “Let’s move the big kids to the parish house, so they get used to coming inside here, and have somewhere comfortable to sit.” 

“Serve snacks right from the start, so hungry kids can eat before they play. And snacks again for the big kids during small group time, so they can eat and talk. They’ll talk more.” 

I loved seeing our time together take shape in a way that made clear that God’s vision was greater than ours, his love deeper and wider than ours. That vision and love spoke to all of us, in little details that made our time smoother, and in larger ways that brought lasting fruit.

I thought of that time, and that passage, as I read Bethany Hoang’s Deepening the Soul for Justice. She describes a similar passage, a similar threat.

Sennacherib, king of Assyria, attacked and captured the fortified cities of Judah, then marched toward Jerusalem, where he hurled threats at King Hezekiah, and laughed at the idea that God would intervene: 

Surely you have heard what the kings of Assyria have done to all the countries, destroying them completely. And will you be delivered? Did the gods of the nations that were destroyed by my predecessors deliver them—the gods of Gozan, Harran, Rezeph and the people of Eden who were in Tel Assar? Where is the king of Hamath or the king of Arpad? Where are the kings of Lair, Sepharvaim, Hena and Ivvah? (Isaiah 37:11-13)

Hoang, as member of the staff of International JusticeMission, describes her own experience of the taunting threats that oppose the vision of justice and peace: 

When I hear the king of Assyria threaten violence with laughing hubris, I can’t help but see the face of a rice mill owner in south Asia, throwing his head back and smiling as he bragged in sinister delight about how he violently prevents his slaves from leaving the compound.

I see the faces of government officials who coldly considered a mother’s testimony, who unflinchingly skimmed over the crime scene photographs of her little daughter’s rape and murder. I can eel their limp hands, hands which had accepted bribes from the defendant, shaking my and my colleagues hands and glibly insisting that justice was likely impossible in this case.

I hear the words of officials throughout the world telling my colleagues that justice for the poor is not possible, trying to convince our tireless staff to go home rater than stay through the watches of the night waiting for these officials to make good on their own laws.

 Just as Jehosphat described the ways God had led in the past, described the current overwhelming need, then confessed his own inadequacy, and willingness to do what God instructed, Hezekiah took the letter from Sennacherib and spread it out before the Lord in prayer. 

“Every day, each one of us receives ‘letters,’ not unlike Hezekiah. Though perhaps not in written form, we encounter great discouragement in our lives that, in as little as one word or one image, threaten to lock down our hearts in deep burden. And as we pursue justice as integral to our daily lives, there will be times when we will be tempted to believe that our God does not hear, that our God does not see, that our God is not able to intervene. 

But as these ‘letters’ come our way, these discouragements that threaten our commitment to seeking justice, even our own disbelief in God’s power or willingness to act, we are invited like Hezekiah to spread all of this out before the Lord. 

When we spread out our discouragements before the Lord – the lies waged against the reality of God’s reign, the taunts hurled against our belief in God’s power to intervene and to heal and to redeem – this simple act of choosing to come before the Lord and seek his face is an act of proclaiming the truth that God is the good, the just, the sovereign Ruler of the ages over and against the brutality of the moment.” (33) 

Hoang describes the way the staff of IJM starts each day in stillness: setting the schedule, the challenges, the perplexities of the day before God and waiting for direction. Later in the day, together, the staff meets to pray, and in gatherings around the globe, staff, volunteers, whole churches wait on God together.

She insists that the global reach of IJM, “the tangible relief for those who suffer from violent injustices such as slavery, forced prostitutuion and illegal detention,” the accomplishments in transforming broken justice systems, holding perpetrators accountable, providing aftercare and support for survivors, are all made possible by the consistent discipline of spending time in prayer, listening in stillness, acknowledging our inadequacy and waiting for vision from the God whose desire for justice and love for the weak are greater than our own.

I wrote last week about the lure of disengagement, the struggle to connect what we know with what we do, what we believe with how we structure our days.

For me, this discipline of listening in prayer is the heart of any engagement.

With limited time, energy, resources, I struggle to know where to invest, when to draw back, how to make a difference. The needs of family, friends, community near and far are too many, too complex, too demanding. I am not wise enough to meet even the simplest.  

Yet, as I spread them out before God, like Hezekiah, or share them in prayer with others, like Jehosophat, as I confess, yet again, "I (we!) don't know what to do," opportunities become visible, next steps become clear, and I’m reminded: it’s not my plan I’m pursuing, but a greater plan I’m privileged to be part of.

Some next step applications:

Spend time in prayer about areas of need, asking God for insight and instruction.

Consider exploring The Essential Question: How You Can Make a Difference for God (a book by my husband, Whitney Kuniholm, just released by InterVarsity Press).

Read and reflect on Hoang’s Deepening the Soul for Justice, and think about ways to grow in spiritual disciplines that make engagement sustainable.

Gather to pray and share vision with others who would like to learn more about showing compassion and seeking justice.

Watch for unexpected opportunities to learn, grow, and serve. ( Here’s one opportunity I’ll be exploring: Bridges Out of Poverty Workshop, on October 18, at Church of the Good Samaritan, Paoli, PA.)

  

This is also the last in a series exploring words and practices that help or hinder our ability to serve our communities in love while renewing a web of compassionate engagement. 

Next week I'll begin looking at specific issues and arenas for engagement, in preparation for the November elections, as an extension of last year's "What's Your Platform?"

Earlier posts:  

Wisdom, July 6, 2014

Liberty and Constraint, July 13, 2014

Justice for All, July 20, 2014  

Appalling Silence, August 3, 2014 

The Role of Rules, August 10, 2014 

Disengagement and Connection, August 17

 As always, your thoughts and comments are welcome. Just click on   __comments below to see the comment option.   

Wisdom

I’ve been listening this week to the troubling story of unaccompanied minors detained at our southern border.

52,193 arrived between October 1, 2013, and June 15, 2014. More are stopped at the checkpoints every day.

As that story unfolds, with accompanying political posturing and pronouncements, I’ve been reading another text as well: the opening chapters of Proverbs, the daily readings from Scripture Union’s Encounter with God. 

Those chapters talk about wisdom: wisdom calling, building a house, offering protection, instruction, safe passage through the tangles of daily life.

from Jim Bridenstine, Oklahoma, bridenstine.house.gov

Those children desperately need that wisdom.

So do we all.

Last week I posted about the ancient agora of Greek democracy: the place where citizens gathered to discuss dilemmas and determine a course of action.

Our current political discussions take place in Facebook rants, accusatory sound bites, passionate harangues that fail to enlighten and leave us hostile and divided.

Impeach the President?

Bus the children home?

I find myself thirsty for wisdom.

Hungry for voices that address the complexities of our current situation, that blend compassion, justice, righteousness, understanding.

As I read through Proverbs, I see two ways of thinking set in opposition: 

• Wisdom and its close counterpart, understanding, yield order, calm, humility, respect, integrity, patience, justice.

• Folly, with its mocking refusal to listen, yields dissension, strife, pride, deception, laziness, oppression.

That second list sounds depressingly familiar. The first is in short supply.

In a situation calling for great compassion, careful conversation, and deep discernment, we have politicians pointing fingers, positing ridiculous causes, offering politically-motivated non-solutions.

It’s not my purpose here to discuss the specifics of our immigration policies, or the impact of trade agreements and drug enforcement on our nearest neighbors, but to grieve the bombast, belligerence, and lack of understanding occasioned by the sad saga of small, unattended children crowded on our doorstep.

They aren’t here because of some nuanced change in our immigration law.

from Jason Chaffetz, Utah,, chaffetz.house.gov

Or because someone’s been fudging the numbers on our current deportation rates.

No parent sends a child, small or not so small, on a harrowing journey across mountains, rivers, deserts unless the reasons are compelling.

No child sets out on such a dangerous journey unless there's no safe haven more accessible.

The American Immigration Council offers a carefully worded evaluation of the situation in a June 10 report: “Children in Danger: A Guideto the Humanitarian Challenge at the Border.” 

Researchers consistently cite increased Northern Triangle violence as the primary recent motivation for migration, while identifying multiple causes including poverty and family reunification. A report by the Assessment Capacities Project (ACAPS), citing 2012 United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) data, highlighted that Honduras had a homicide rate of 90.4 per 100,000 people. El Salvador and Guatemala had homicide rates of 41.2 and 39.9, respectively. In comparison, the war-torn country of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, from which nearly half a million refugees have fled, has a homicide rate of 28.3 per 100,000 people. 

Read that paragraph again and grieve.

To put it in perspective: Philadelphia's rate was 15.96 homicides per 100,000 residents in 2013; San Pedro Sula’s, in Honduras, was 187.14

The report assesses the outcry over changes in immigration law and angry calls for more border patrols and tougher enforcement: 

• Recent U.S. immigration enforcement policy does not appear to be a primary cause of the migration. . .
• There is little evidence to support the proposition that the border must be further fortified to deter an influx of children and families. . .  
• Treating the current situation as simply another wave of illegal immigration misses the broader policy and humanitarian concerns that are driving it. In fact, many children are turning themselves over to Border Patrol agents upon arrival and are not seeking to evade apprehension. 

Short term alternatives are challenging, long-term options are complex and incomplete, and the report doesn’t pretend to address the deeper, decades-old forces that have destabilized the agricultural economies of Central American, narrowing economic opportunity, uprooting whole communities, and plunging large sectors of affected countries into violence and despair.

Are solutions possible without wisdom?

Is democracy possible without wisdom?

Not just on the part of leaders, but on the part of citizens as well?

What happens when economic self-interest, rather than wisdom, defines our vote, our voice, our trade, our foreign policy?

Last week, I suggested the start of a new series: 

I want to dig more deeply into the possibility of being salt, light, or a voice of hope or wisdom in places mired in anger or confusion.

I want to suggest ways to engage, not just by signing a survey, or making a phone call, but by serving our communities in love while helping to renew a web of compassionate engagement. 

How do we sow seeds of wisdom in places mired in anger or confusion?

Four thoughts:

1. Learn before speaking.

We can’t all be experts on every issue that confronts us, but we can take time to learn before we voice opinions. If we haven’t taken time to look a little deeper, hear both sides of the story, understand the pros and cons,  maybe we should ask questions and listen rather than repeat accusations that stir our anger but not our understanding.

2. Evaluate ideas rather than judge people.

Too often we listen just long enough to label those around us: with us or against us. Socialist, Commie, Fascist, Feminazi. Narrow-minded Christian. Tree hugger. Bigot. Those labels deepen our divisions, keep us from exploring real solutions, and demonstrate our lack of wisdom.

3. Recognize folly and avoid it.

There are TV shows I choose not to watch because they promote a mocking spirit. There are radio broadcasts I don’t listen to because they deliberately stir division. I work hard to find sources that are balanced, thoughtful, more interested in finding solutions than fixing blame. If more of us chose our sources more wisely, maybe those sources would be easier to find.

4. Pray for wisdom, for yourself, our leaders, churches, communities, citizens.

Growing up, I saw more than my share of division, pride, anger, deception. I wanted something different. When I first read James 3, I caught of glimpse of what I hungered for. I’ve been praying for that, for myself and our world, for four decades now. Please pray with me!

 But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness.  (James 3:17-18)   

As always, your thoughts and comments are welcome. Just click on   __comments below to see the comment option.  

     

Loving the Stranger Beside You

The Wedding March, Theodore Robinson, 1892, Paris

Last Sunday my husband Whitney and I gave a talk for our church’s Marriage Alpha program. The topic was The Impact of Family - Past and Present, and one of the areas of discussion was differences: ways our families of origin differed, and how those differences can cause stress or conflict.

Preparation prompted some helpful reflection and thoughtful conversation about the ways our families, and experiences of family, were different. His family made a big deal about Christmas; mine did as little as possible. I’m from a long line of do-it-yourselfers. His family saw little delight in building shelves, ripping out bathrooms, refinishing furniture.

Along the way, I came across an interesting observation by ethicist Stanley Hauerwas that set the whole discussion in context: 

We never know whom we marry; we just think we do. Or even if we first marry the “right” person, just give it a while and he or she will change. For marriage . . . means we are not the same person after we have entered it. The primary challenge of marriage is learning how to love and care for the stranger to whom you find yourself married.  

Looking back across our more than 36 years of marriage, I note with amusement the truth of Hauerwas’ comment. In many ways Whitney and I have become each other: I was the driven student, meticulous multi-tasker, aware of every penny spent, type A before I knew the term. I’m now far more casual about record-keeping than Whitney might like, far more likely to wander off bird-watching while he edits his latest writing project. Some of that is the way experiences and job demands have shaped us. Some of that is about gaining space to relax into our truer selves.

I’ve been struggling this month to come to terms with the word “love.” It’s a small overused word asked to stretch in too many directions. What does it mean to love this person next to me? I watch him with affection, sew on his buttons, listen, as well as I can, to his stories or thoughts about his work.

The Greeks had multiple words for love: agápe, éros, philía, storgē, ludus, pragma, mania, philautia. Those words tried to capture aspects of love and box them into neat little subsets: 

• Agápe is unconditional, gift-giving love, often equated with God’s love
• Eros is sensual, or romantic, or passionate
• Storgē is the love between family members, the devoted love between parent and child
• Philia is the kind of love between brothers or sisters, or the slow, steady love between long-term friends
• Ludus is playful, maybe in a competitive way (as in “a player,”), or in a childlike way (teasing or silly)
• Pragma: practical, mutually beneficial love, as in a long, settled marriage
• Mania: obsessive, jealous, extreme
• Philautia: love of self, self-esteem shading toward narcissism   

Double Portrait of Paul and Max von
Mila, Friedrich Wilhelm von Schadow, Germany

Do the categories clarify, or confuse?

Or do they simply demonstrate that one word, eight, a dozen words, are not adequate to capture the complexity and importance of love?

Where’s the word that captures the sense of safety and warmth found in the presence of a loved one?

Or the word that captures the panic we feel when a loved one is in any kind of danger?

Or the word that illuminates the tension when a loved one struggles, the desire to intervene, the knowledge that struggle is sometimes needed for growth, the temptation to be the hero, the hope for a long-term good?

Words fall far short.

The Greek words try to convey the difference between love of spouse, love of child, love of friend.

Where’s the word for love of God?

Love of neighbor?

Love of enemy?

The synchroblog topic last week, Loving Your Enemies, prompted much soul-searching about what it might mean to love anyone at all, not just an enemy.

My own fall-back definition of love would be determined, self-giving pursuit of the other’s flourishing.

When I read 1 Corinthians 13, that’s what I hear: 

“Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” 

I can love in a determined, self-giving way for minutes on end. Hours sometimes. Maybe – rarely – days.

But always? Not likely.

The Artist's Children, Friedrich Wilhelm
von Schadow, Germany, 1830

And here’s where I get stuck: I can love in a determined, self-giving way those closest to me - my husband, my children, my grandchildren.

Intermittently. Imperfectly.

If needed, I can muster that kind of love for extended family – for a limited time.

And for select friends and their families – if it fits my schedule.

If I set the bar a bit lower, I can extend the circle a bit wider.

If love is a willingness to expend some energy, once in a while, for someone when it fits my schedule, well then yes, I love my neighbors. I’m willing to shovel an extra few feet to clear their sidewalks (if the snow isn’t too deep). Willing to watch a cat or some fish for a week or two. But am I willing to spend creative energy to see my neighbors flourish? I'd like to. But do I?

If love is simply a desire that you be warm and well-fed, then yes, I love you all: known, unknown, near, far. Have a good life. Be happy and healthy. May the road rise up to meet you.

But, as James reminds us: love in word only isn’t much love at all: 

Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?

I was struck by aSynchroblog post last week, EmKay Anderson’s Loving While Angry : 

If I watch my own emotions and actions for signs of anger, hurt, contempt, or even just the tendency to see people as their role rather than as real persons (whether "the grocery clerk "or "my mom"), I can use those signs as a spur to find a way to both really listen and to take real action on behalf of that person's well-being. 

Loving while angry (or impatient, or annoyed) strikes me as a practical spiritual discipline that forces attention both toward myself (why am I angry? impatient? annoyed?)  and toward those around me. That discipline

is the cultivation of prayer in asking God what that person needs from me.  It is the cultivation of margins in my own time and attention and money so that I can afford to pay attention and give time or other resources.  And it is the practice of actual empathetic conversation, in which I let my own dislike or pain or disagreement be the very trigger that let's me remember to bracket that reaction, pray for understanding of both my reaction and of that of the other, and then reach out to converse and listen and maybe even be changed.
 This practice is not comforting.  It pushes me out of safety into war zones regularly, and it breaks the artificial bonds of alignment with others through relationship or sociological circumstance or ideology.  Much of our shared life is built on the unwritten rules of any subculture.
 But this practice does give me the spiritual workout I need to grow strong and to stay strong, and it does allow me to cultivate a practice of the presence of God. 

Mother and Child, Mary Cassatt,
Pennsylvania, 1890

Today, I’ll be helping make, serve, clean up a meal for eighty or so people in my church. Hearty soup, hot roles from the oven. I’ll feel aggravation, irritation, impatience. Mostly with myself. Food for many is not my strength. I do it out of love for the strangers in my church: those who rarely eat a hot meal, those who have few conversations through a long, lonely week, new college students, unconnected families.

And I’ll pause to wonder: how can I build more margin into a simple task, so I have time to pause with the child who wants to help stack chairs, to talk with the slow-moving gentleman waiting between me and the serving table, to focus on something other than the task at hand, to love the stranger more attentively?  

I will never love perfectly: not myself, not my husband, children, siblings, friends. I fall far short, and recognize every day my own lack of patience, wisdom, insight.

But as I invite God to open my eyes and ears, to keep me attentive to the needs around me and the ways I pull back out of fear, indifference, irritation, anger, I can grow.

And as I grow, as we grow, that love for us – strangers ourselves – becomes more evident, in, through, around us. And we, and the other strangers around us, find refuge, comfort, and safety in that love. 

But the stranger that dwells with you shall be unto you as one born among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.. . .Leviticus 19:34  

In honor of Valentine’s Day, and as a warming exploration in a very cold, gray month, this is the last in a four part exploration of love.  

1. What's It Like to Be You?
2. Ice Shards that Pop Soap Bubbles of Comfort
3. Circles of Love

Please join the conversation: just click on   __comments below and add your thoughts.  

Questions of Character

Lord, who may dwell in your sacred tent?
    Who may live on your holy mountain?
The one whose walk is blameless,
    who does what is righteous,
    who speaks the truth from their heart;
. .. who keeps an oath even when it hurts,
    (Psalm 15)

"You shall not repeat a false report . . .Neither shall you allege the example of the many as an excuse for doing wrong. . . Exodus 23:1-2 (NAB)

Last Monday I sat down to watch the first Presidential debate. I was busy the night it aired, but after hearing so much about who won, and why, I felt convinced I needed to watch it.

I wasn’t looking so much for who had the best zingers, who seemed most in control, who dominated the conversation, but for any hint of wisdom, humility, patience, grace, compassion.  I had in mind an issue raised in the list of values and questions from the Miroslav Volf page I mentioned last week: “The debate should be about what dimensions of character matter most and what blend of virtues and competencies is most needed at this time.”

What struck me most was the level of contradiction I heard in Romney’s arguments, and the ferocity with which he repeated some of the statements most in conflict with things he’s said before. I had spent time the evening before looking through his website with a friend trying to write a comparison essay for a college class and was surprised to hear Romney saying things that seemed strangely out of step with his own published positions.

I found myself increasingly uncomfortable as he sharply contradicted the President when Obama tried to hold him to previously stated positions, when he sharply contradicted things I’ve heard him say before, in effect said “I didn’t say that” to statements any researcher could easily prove he said.

I was reminded, watching him, of kids I’ve worked with who are gifted at spinning stories with little bearing on the truth. It sometimes feels like a family thing: if a child grows up in a household where adults will say whatever works, their children will do the same, with energy, conviction and a scary sense of outrage when met with disbelief by reasonable adults who dare to question obvious, easily-countered lies. In the game of manipulation, truth will lose to power every time.

I try – hard – to be charitable to those whose views don’t align with mine. We all want to do what’s right, don’t we? We just start in different places, and sometimes come to different conclusions.

I understand that factual accuracy is hard in a complicated, constantly changing arena. And I understand that “spin” is part of the discourse of the day. I understand as well that things promised are not always easily delivered.

But is there a point where the spin goes too far? Or the promises are too facile, too quickly set aside?

Factcheck.org

And what should we conclude when those who should be advocating for truth fall back on the weary, adolescent defense: “They started it! And everybody does it!”

What happens to a culture where “truth” is twisted and contorted by those who claim to defend it, where “facts” are whatever works in the moment, even for those who insist truth can be known, who contend that Truth – with a capital T - should be the foundation of what we do and say? Those who decry the dangers of relativism should watch carefully as leaders who should stand most firmly for honesty in public discourse pass on lies themselves when it serves their political agendas.

Yes, the fact checkers have been having a busy time, with fallacies attributed to both sides, and deceptive ads generated by a widening mix of players.

Again – is there a point where the deceptions go too far?

It’s not hard to find clear documentation of Romney fabrications. Just google “Romney lies,” or “Romney contradictions.” Steve Benen, one of Rachel Maddow’s producers, has been “Chronicling Mitt’s Mendacity” since last January, with a new list of lies posted each Friday.  A Ron Paul supporter took another tack, with video documentation of Romney contradictions in The Ultimate Mitt Romney Flip Flop Collection, created last April.

The documented lies and contradictions are large and small, passionate, puzzling, strange. Sweet stories about political moments with his dad: didn’t take place.  Insistent memories of specific career changes: don’t agree with facts. Earnest affirmations to wealthy donors: contradicted from the public stage.

And then there are the deceptions employed as business strategy, from pushing  young colleagues to “falsify” their identities to spy out competitors operations, to hiding profits in off-shore tax havens, to promoting profit at the expense of public good in the fragile young Russian economy.

Politifact.org

Add the endless untrue accusations throughout the primary, primary debates, convention, through to today about opponents' policies, plans, practices, personal histories And the constant changes of position: last October former Utah Governor Jon Huntsman described Romney as a "perfectly lubricated weather vane on all the major issues of the day." At the same time, Brit Hume of Fox News suggested: "you are only allowed a certain number of flips before people begin to doubt your character. And i think Romney exhausted his quota sometime back."

Interesting that Republicans most vociferous about Romney’s lies during the primary now cry “partisan” when that pattern of dishonesty is again brought to public attention.

A June, 2012 column in Time magazine, by psychoanalyst Justin Frank, explored “The Root of Mitt Romney’s Comfort with Lying.” Dr. Frank probed Romney’s roots in the Mormon faith, and the fraudulent claims at the heart of that tradition, suggesting that for Romney, authority trumps truth:

“[I]n the Mormon Church, there was a decision to accept authority as true — whether or not evidence supported it. Hence Joseph Smith, the founder of the faith in 1820, claimed he was illiterate and received the Book of Mormon directly from God. But he could read, and read very well.

“This unwavering faith is central to Romney’s comfort in deflecting any examples that the press might bring up of his lying. Further, it allows him to repeat lies again and again — both personally and in political advertising — because to him they are not lies at all. I’m reminded of that old epigram from the 1960s: ‘My mind is made up; don’t confuse me with the facts.’ That may be all good and well in many offices, but it’s not so good in the Oval Office.”

Frank’s very non-pc comments sent me digging further, to testimony by those who have left the Mormon faith, decrying the duplicity endorsed and encouraged by church leaders, and warning of the culture of secrecy and dishonest authority woven throughout Mormon history. Spend time examining the roots of Mormonism and it becomes clear that Joseph Smith, the founding "prophet," was a convicted con man and shameless self-promoter, hungry for money, power, and women.

The Mormon Delusion, Jim Whitefield

Park Romney, Mitt Romney’s second cousin, served like Mitt as a high priest in the Mormon Church, but became an “apostate” when he concluded that the Mormon faith is an "insidious contemporary fraud.” In a brief discussion of Romney’s presidential candidacy, he notes the extensive documentation of dishonesty throughout the history of the church (summarized on his website, with links to sources):

“The inescapable questions that we are left with, as they relate to the campaign of Mitt Romney, are not whether we are comfortable with Mormonism as our President’s religion; not whether Mormonism is a cult; not whether Mormonism is compatible with Christianity; not whether Polygamy is good or bad; not whether the average lay member of the Mormon Church is a good citizen who we are reticent to offend; but rather, whether Mitt Romney, a current High Priest of the Mormon Church, and former regional church leader, is aware that his religion is a demonstrable contemporary fraud in which the leadership of the Church are exploiting the faith of the lay members in extracting countless millions of dollars in tithing receipts, a significant portion of which being invested in world-wide commercial enterprises controlled by the Church, and real estate development in down town Salt Lake City, and all over the world? Is the man in whom so many hope to place all of their hope and faith for a brighter future for America, and in whom they will rely for the assessment of intelligence briefings that are the basis of world-wide military action, aware of the unmistakable, and incontestable evidence that his Church is a fraud? If he is aware, how do we escape the conclusion that he is a party to this fraud, as a High Priest of the Mormon Church. . . . If he is not aware that it is a fraud, amidst glaringly unmistakable evidence . . . then shall we not have profoundly serious questions about his judgment?  

Park Romney's questions are worth considering.

Another question: What happens when leaders put political expedience ahead of allegiance to truth?

And another: What happens to a people willing to accept what they're told rather than do the work of checking sources, listening more carefully, and coming to conclusions of their own?

Does truth matter? And is faith a simple game of follow-the-leader?

Jesus and the prophets had strong things to say about leaders who misused their power to maintain control and serve themselves, and both Old and New Testaments are full of warnings about testing what’s said, discerning the truth, praying for wisdom. Unfortunately, concerns about truth, my own included, are far more likely to be met with ad hominem attacks or cries of “they do it too!” than with prayerful investigation.

Friend deceives friend,
    and no one speaks the truth.
They have taught their tongues to lie;
    they weary themselves with sinning.
You live in the midst of deception . . .
     (Jeremiah 9)

“In the midst of deception,” I find myself praying for the wisdom so sadly lacking in our current political debate, and for the ability, for myself, our leaders, and fellow voters, to step past partisan blinders to see and do what’s true:

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.  (James 1:5)

But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness. (James 3)

This is part of a continuing series about faith and politics: What's Your Platform? Join the conversation.  Look for the "__ comments" link below to leave your comments.  

All Liberals Here . . . Except When We're Not

In this season of conventions, our language strains and slips under the burden of conflicting meanings. Truth is what we think it is; tolerance is what we choose to accept. Freedom bends to our own definitions. “Right” is anyone’s guess.

I’ve been increasingly amused, frustrated, mystified, at the way terms like “liberal,” “conservative,” “progressive,” “socialist” are mixed and matched with little regard to original meanings, and at the strange contradictions embraced without a hint of irony.

Let me focus on the one word that seems to hold the greatest contradiction:

Liberal.

What is a liberal? And are you one?


According to the historic definition, a liberal believes in the importance of individual rights, including property rights, personal rights, and the freedom of the individual from any kind of external restraint. Free speech, free press, free love, free markets – those are all logical goals of classic liberalism.

Milton Friedman, supply-side guru and patron saint of free market advocates, was an advisor to Ronald Reagan but identified himself as a classic liberal. He frequently described himself as "a liberal in the true sense of liberal, in the sense in which it means of and pertaining to freedom."

Friedman believed in limited government, “Consistent with the maximum freedom for each individual to follow his own ways, his own values, as long as he doesn't interfere with anybody else who's doing the same.” He advocated dismantling the Food and Drug Administration, ending all environmental regulations, eliminating child labor laws, minimum wages, the Department of Transportation. He championed free markets, free trade, unfettered commerce, school vouchers.

He also believed in legalizing drugs and prostitution, and freedom of choice with regard to abortion and gay rights.  As his 1980 PBS video series, "Free to Choose," made clear: "You should be free to do what you want as long as you don't prevent other people from doing the same thing."

Whatever you may think of Friedman, he understood where his liberalism started, and where it led: if the individual is sovereign in his own solitary empire of one, then each person is responsible for ascribing value, for choosing direction, and each person, alone, should carry the consequences of his or her own choice.

Our inconsistent application of his ideas demonstrates our discomfort with both his premise and conclusions. We know - some of us instinctively, some of us more consciously - that trusting each person to act morally, without external restraint, is dangerous and unwise. And we know too - through painful experience - that unrestrained individualism can cause great harm; each family, congregation, community feels the weight of individual choices.


Of course, we all want it both ways. We want to be free of restraint in areas of concern to us (End gun control! Freedom of choice!  Free markets! Love who you want!), but we want regulation, restriction, governmental control in arenas where we feel we need protection, or see an avenue to profit or opportunity not available without outside intervention.

Which is how we arrive at our current spectacle: advocates of small government arguing for higher defense spending and agribusiness subsidies, intervention in areas of personal moral choice. Advocates of personal freedom arguing for stronger regulations on food, trade, environmental impact.

Thomas Storck, Catholic writer and thinker and advocate for Distributism, a “third-way” economy rooted in traditional Catholic teaching, recently explored these contradictions. (His use of “liberal” and “conservative” in this reflects current usage, not classical definition):

“Liberals are very aware of the dangers that the unrestrained pursuit of wealth poses to society, of the potential power of wealth, especially concentrated wealth, to corrupt the political process and to skew public policy in its own favor. Liberals quite rightly point to the tremendous power of the rich to influence the political process, to shape tax policy, environmental and labor legislation, and many other kinds of laws and regulations, in their favor. They likewise realize that when society allows free play to the passion for economic gain, people in general will begin to look at every relationship and transaction with solely an eye for their own personal gain. The desire to gain tends to color the whole of the life of society.

"Moreover, liberals are quite willing to employ the power of the law to ensure that the force of human greed does not violate the common good. . . . Liberals realize that the mere fact of the existence of a desire for more money on the part of people does not give those individuals any right to pursue that desire at the expense of the common good of society. . .

"But what of conservatives? Conservatives are very aware of the dangers that the unrestrained pursuit of sexual pleasure poses to society, of its power to create any number of social pathologies. . . They rightly are concerned that the selfish pursuit of individual pleasure harms others, such as children and abandoned spouses, as well as society as a whole. They likewise realize that when society allows free play to the passion for unrestrained sexual pleasure, people in general will begin to look at every relationship and transaction with solely an eye for their own personal pleasure. The desire for erotic satisfaction tends to color the whole of the life of society.

"Moreover, conservatives are quite willing to employ the power of the law to ensure that the pursuit of pleasure is kept within bounds. They advocate tax policies that favor families, laws preventing same-sex unions, making divorce and abortion more difficult, restrictions on the sale of contraceptives to minors, even harsh laws on teenage sex. Conservatives realize that the mere fact of the existence of a desire for a maximum of sexual pleasure on the part of individuals does not give those individuals any right to pursue that desire at the expense of the common good of society. . . 

"From being zealous for the common good and ready to place all manner of restraints on human conduct in the sexual realm, conservatives run to the other extreme and embrace a policy of laissez-faire when it comes to money. They even invent an ideology that pretends that the pursuit of private wealth somehow redounds to the benefit of all, despite much experience showing the falsity of this. It is hard to understand how conservatives do not see, or profess not to see, that the unrestrained and anti-social pursuit of money can do as much harm to the social fabric as the unrestrained pursuit of sexual pleasure."

Storck offers no real solution, other than to suggest that by exercising freedom of thought we might see through the flimsy moral framework of both positions.

My own prayer would be for a deeper exploration of essential questions, and greater humility in the way we defend our causes.

• Who decides what’s moral, right, just? If the individual is the key to all morality, if pursuit of individual "happiness" is the greatest good, then contradiction, conflict, and increasingly divided discourse are the best that we can hope for.
• What is the role of government? Does it exist to satisfy the loudest voice, the biggest contributor, the popular vote? Or is there a more essential role of government: maintaining justice, ensuring the common good? And how do we safeguard that role?
• What is the role of the citizen? Is it to show up and vote? To lobby for rules and subsidies that benefit our own values? To operate freely within the law, even when those laws are unjust and immoral? Is the law the measure of our morality? Can we, should we, legislate morality?
• And what does it mean to follow Christ in a culture that cries, from every side, that we, alone, are the standard, the source, that all significance and satisfaction reside in having our own way?

A lectionary sermon from Ephesians several weeks ago warned “Live as children of light  (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. . . Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise.” (Ephesians 5)

Wise?

James asked "Who is wise and understanding among you? Let them show it by their good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom. . . . But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness." (James 3)

We are sorely in need of humility, and a wisdom full of mercy, impartial and sincere.

Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent, for the sake of your Son Jesus Christ, have mercy on us and forgive us; that we may delight in your will, and walk in your ways, to the glory of your Name. Amen.    (Episcopal Book of Common Prayer )

This is part of a continuing series on politics and faith: What's Your Platform.

Please join the conversation. Your thoughts and experiences are always welcome. Look for the "__ comments" link below to leave your comments.

Welfare to Work and a Plea for Wisdom

Happy Labor Day.

I’m thankful today for jobs I’ve had – for the chance to work, to grow, to contribute. I’m thankful for my husbands’ good jobs, that my kids have work, that we have health care, homes, food to eat.

And I’m prayerful for all the people in my life who aren’t able to say the same: who have never had jobs that allowed them to thrive, who have never had room to stretch and grow, whose health care is uncertain, whose days are devoted to counting change, juggling bills, wishing there were a few dollars more so the kids could go on the next class field trip.

I was tempted to repost my Labor Day post from last year. The issues I discussed are relevant to current political discussion.

But this past week there's been much discussion on another labor related issues: welfare to work and the new state waivers. I've been hearing that "Obama gutted welfare reform," listening to people repeat “Obama said people on welfare don’t need to work.”  I've been praying for greater wisdom, on the part of leaders and voters, about the complex, troubling world of the poor, and I've been wishing that all of us, rich, comfortable, opinionated, wise in our own well-being, could spend a week or two exploring the reality of poverty in these United States.

First, we’d learn, fast, that survival is complicated. Start with the acronyms. Ever heard of TANF? That’s Temporary Assistance to Needy Families. Note the “Temporary.” TANF is the program prompting all the discussion. It grew out of the Welfare to Work legislation of 1996, but is so overburdened with record keeping, reporting requirements, conflicting conditions and consequences that many states find themselves putting more energy into documenting compliance than in effectively helping people find jobs. Here in Pennsylvania, people I know who have attempted TANF compliance have found themselves logging hours in a room with some crumpled want-ads, with no real hope of finding work, caught in a perpetual study hall with nothing to study, while their children are watched by neighbors or running free on city streets.

Which partially explains why 29 Republican governors signed a letter back in 2005 asking for waivers allowing state governments more flexibility in helping people move into the work force. Governors Rick Perry of Texas, John Huntsman of Alabama, Jeb Bush of Florida, Mike Huckabee of Arkansas, and Mitt Romney of Massachusetts were among those who signed the letter. Then President Bush ignored the request, but the issue was raised again last summer with a detailed proposal from Utah Governor Gary Herbert of Utah.

Those requests were met last month with a ruling authorizing increased flexibility, dependent on states continuing to meet or exceed the original goals of TANF: “helping parents successfully prepare for, find, and retain employment.” As the explanatory memorandum from the Department of Health and Human Services makes clear:

 “The Administration for Children and Families (ACF) is interested in more efficient or effective means to promote employment entry, retention, advancement, or access to jobs that offer opportunities for earnings and advancement that will allow participants to avoid dependence on government benefits. . . HHS will only consider approving waivers relating to the work participation requirements that make changes intended to lead to more effective means of meeting the work goals of TANF.”

Center on Budget and Policy Priorities

The fact that governors who requested waivers are not strongly and vocally supporting this decision seems the height of dishonesty. Anyone who wants to see an end to regulation, stronger states rights, less federal government interference, should be applauding this change, rather than spreading misinformation and turning a malignant spotlight on those who find themselves in need of help.

Let’s pause, though, and ask: how much money are we talking about here? And how many people? People talk about welfare queens, as if there are people taking their ease while public assistance pays the bills. Current TANF allotments in most states are less than half the poverty level. In Pennsylvania, a single-parent family with two kids can expect $407 per month. Not enough to pay rent on even a studio apartment in any but the poorest neighborhood, so the single moms I know are camped out with their kids in one bedroom in someone else’s house, or scraping together whatever help they can find to perch precariously in inadequate, aging housing, hoping the sole toilet doesn’t break.

According to TANF regulations, no family can receive assistance for more than five years, total. And if a parent tries to go back to school to make a slightly better job possible, current TANF regulations allow exactly twelve months of assistance before that parent needs to get out in the work force.

Add in SNAP (that’s the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program – previously food stamps, now a digitized card, like a credit card), and a family on assistance is still far below the poverty level.
Since the Welfare to Work legislation took place, the number of families receiving aid has declined by 60 percent, even with increased unemployment and significantly increased poverty.

While Welfare to Work rules have encouraged significant numbers back into the workforce, it has also resulted in more and more families in extreme poverty, with less and less help for food, rent, and other necessities.

Center on Budget and Policy Priorities

What happens when families are “sanctioned” because a parent fails to comply with the job search requirements? Or when the sixty month window expires? Assistance ends. Even though there are few jobs available. Even though the jobs open to someone with a GED and one year of training often pay minimum wage, no benefits, an no control over hours.

So back to my wish. For those with strong opinions about welfare and “the lazy poor”, of those not interested in poverty platforms, I wish we could all spend a week trying to figure it out: how to get to the welfare office by bus with a child or two in tow. How to feed a family on a few dollars a day, with limited transportation, limited space for storage. How to look and smell clean when there's no money for the laundromat. How to prioritize when there's not enough money to meet even the top priorities of housing, food, clean clothing.

We’d learn that life is confusing, with piecemeal offerings of help, confusing requirements, changing deadlines. We’d learn that hard choices are constant: get the brakes on the ancient van fixed, or buy the calculator needed for school? Pay the phone bill, or stock up on toilet paper?

Forget sports teams for the kids, summer camp, music lessons, braces. The questions are more immediate: milk or orange juice? Sneakers that fit, or a second-hand winter coat?

Yes, if you want, we can go back to the underlying question: isn’t it their fault they’re poor? These single moms: didn’t they make some bad choices?

Here’s a question of my own: where were you living when you were sixteen? Who was helping you think things through? Who was making sure you had a bed to sleep in? Who was holding you when you cried?

The 2009 film Precious, based on the first-person account of a young urban mom, did a great job of capturing the reality of many who struggle. Not an easy film to watch, but maybe it should be required viewing for all of us, politicians, pundits, person in the street.

This issue of work, welfare, and what we say about the poor is personal to me. My own family was on welfare when I was sixteen: food stamps, rent and medical assistance. We lived in a single parent household, with my grandmother as sole guardian. She was working long hours at a low wage job, working so hard she had a heart attack. Fortunately, she lived. Not every story ends so well. The issue is also personal to me because of my years of involvement in a poor Philly neighborhood, and my many friends with painful stories of their own. Until we find better ways of intervening in cycles of dysfunction, sexual violence, neglect, mental illness, drug dependence, we will not solve the problem of poverty.

Yes, there are people who continue to make unwise choices, and some who game the system, but the people I know who benefit from TANF are longing for a chance, struggling to survive, wishing they could find good jobs, worrying about their kids. They would benefit from more creative, more flexible programs. They are badly hurt when assistance to the poor becomes a political football and their needs and hopes are buried in partisan maneuvering.

What do I take from this?

• Our politicians need to be honest about programs and policies. If they endorsed a policy because of its merits, they should say so, rather than be silenced by party politics, or bullied into opposing something they know would help.
• Arguments about putting the poor to work should acknowledge our current climate: even people with years of experience, with extensive training and supportive networks, find it hard to find jobs that support their families. There are better ways to help families in need than insisting ill-equipped parents waste time looking for non-existent jobs rather than take the time needed to improve parenting and literacy skills and train for real long-term employment.
• Compassion for the poor requires knowing people who struggle, trying to understand the realities they face, and finding practical ways to share the burdens. Without that compassion, our opinions are sounding gongs, or clashing symbols, and do far more harm than good. 

“This is what the LORD Almighty said: ‘Administer true justice; show mercy and compassion to one another.  Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the foreigner or the poor” Zechariah 7:9-10

This is part of a continuing series on politics and faith: What's Your Platform.

Please join the conversation. Your thoughts and experiences are always welcome. Look for the "__ comments" link below to leave your comments.